


Inside The Summer Glow

by MatchaMochi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Gift Exchange, M/M, Mythical being/monster! Lance, Rimming, dark fairytale au, dombottom lance, lance is BIG, subtop shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: 'It looks more like an angel, not dissimilar to the ones he sees in the tombstones at the back of town. Its figure is in mid-dance, arms gracefully raised towards the sun while its legs are bent, as if poised to jump.'





	Inside The Summer Glow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CircusTalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusTalia/gifts).

> Hi its jaja again, I felt like I should contribute something for october so I entered this gift exchange modded by the wonderful [fabledV](https://twitter.com/FabledV) here, and made this for [CircusTalia](https://twitter.com/CircusTalia) , hope you like this!!! XD

There’s a statue standing tall at the centre of town, ten feet in length, made of a kind of obsidian Shiro has never seen before. It’s not a monument, nor is it a symbol. His mother tells him it’s a warning more than anything else. To visitors and merchants coming their way; harm will come their way if they ever intended harm coming in.

‘The Night Guardian’ is their greatest protector but no one had ever told him the exact reason why. It looks more like an angel, not dissimilar to the ones he sees in the tombstones at the back of town. Its figure is in mid-dance, arms gracefully raised towards the sun while its legs are bent, as if poised to jump.

Its wings are enormous, though not fully unfurled, its hands are long, with nails as sharp as the knives he uses for hunting. All around its bare torso, at its arms, legs, face; there are eyes etched in as big as apples, some closed, some not. Its hair is short, curled at the edges. What had always grabbed his attention though, was the expression of sorrow in its face. Its eyes are closed, and its mouth is parted in a silent cry. It is beautiful.

Shiro has lived in this town all his life and he’s never once seen it age, or stained, or battered down by the harsh weather. Every single morning he’ll go out hunting with his sisters and they’ll leave with a silent prayer on their lips, and the statue stays pristine and pure, blessing them to a good harvest and luck in their hunt.

It is not their god though, never that. His grandmother tells him, ‘ _ The Night Guardian owes us a debt, and he will fulfil it by taking care of us every year and every season. _ ’ He’ll ask, ‘ _ And what happens when that debt is paid? _ ’ she had shaken her head at him, eyes forlorn, ‘ _ It cannot be paid by mere protection alone. We had saved him from danger a long, long time ago when he was lost and hunted down by people who wanted him because of how he is. I do not think he wants to leave my little one. He said, ‘I will go once one is born with heart of gold and mind of mercy. I will leave once one will have me for all I am.’’ _

He remembers frowning, grabbing her skirt with his soft, chubby hands, ‘ _ Why does he look so sad? _ ’ and he recalls the sudden stillness, something hidden in her eyes making her breath hitch. He knows what it is now.

It is fear and he shudders too, thinking of how she’d gripped his wrist tightly and murmured, ‘ _ Its protection had come with a price, my dear, dear child. _ ’

-

There is a strict rule in town, and no one ever doubts it, considering what has happened every time. Nobody is allowed to be out after midnight, protection will only come for anyone staying in their homes. Anyone lingering in the streets has violated their promise to the Night Guardian.

This is how it takes care of them. This is why burglars and raiders are swallowed by the unending darkness of the night. There are no bones left after each aftermath, though they say every time it strikes, another eye will open on its skin.

Shiro was still young when he had questioned it. Why does their own guardian harm them? How does such a malevolent creature be allowed to be their protector? Has it no sense of mercy? He’ll stare at it in apprehension and doubt will grow in his heart, because he knows that if this is how his people should live, then surely, something should be done about it.

He wonders if someone had ever tried destroying the statue.

The next day, its head has tilted to the right, just a little bit, in his direction. He freezes, swallows thickly, and he blinks and blinks. Chalks it down from drinking too much of his father’s cider last night and his wild imagination. He tries not to think about it after that.

-

He is an adult now, his body has filled out, his hair turned pale. He has a scar on his nose and had lost his arm from an accident during a hunt. And he’s too late, much too late to run to his house before midnight.

The sun has set he knows,  _ he knows _ , but the moon had been too beautiful for him to stay cooped up in his room. A fat, yellow, full moon so different from any of the nights before. It was so peaceful, he doesn’t resist the sudden pull to walk outside. He’d lost track of time, had started feeling tired and sleepy. He wakes up though, when a sudden cold breeze hits him, making shivers run down his spine.

He’s outside at the centre of town and the statue is gone.

He gapes at the empty altar, and just when he’s turning back, a sudden shrieking cry pierces through the silent night. A huge shadow looms behind him and he doesn’t dare turn around. He does not know what to do. He’s frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing comes in short bursts, he feels the blood drain from his face as he sees the shadow coming closer. Moonlight shines down on him and behind him, he sees the silhouette of wings. The stench of copper hits him, makes his stomach lurch.

Another cry, this time so much nearer. His muscle is taut, he doesn’t want to, but he needs to  _ know. _

So, he slowly, slowly, turns his head.

_ Blood.  _ Dripping into a dark puddle from its mouth; a cavern lined with rows and rows of jagged teeth. Hundreds of eyes on its skin staring at him, electric blue and filled with a kind of otherworldliness he cannot fathom. Its wings are pitch black, darker than the night sky, filling the space as it stretches its tips to the clouds, ruffled and dirty. Its nails are claws digging bloody marks on the ground, its eyes stare right into his soul, black as night, glowing blue pupils.  _ Drip, drip.  _ It grins at him.

He distantly feels his knees shake, his back hitting the ground, the blood rushing into his ears. Everything around him feels detached as the creature stoops low over him, blood soaking into his shirt, making him flinch at the sudden wet heat. Its face is so near now, its breath ruffles his hair and Shiro thinks he might be breathing too fast to take in any air.

Its claws are wet too, reaches for his face, lining it with blood, a caress on his cheek. Shiro closes his eyes in a shudder that makes his back quiver. His whole body shakes like a leaf, his one hand clenched in a fist to his side.

So. This is how he dies.

He opens his eyes, hoping to see the moon just for one last time but instead is greeted with the open maw over his head and he’s struggling now, and the nails pierce his skin on his face and he whispers, “ _ Please, please, _ ” and “ _ Mercy, _ ”. But it opens and opens, and the eyes stare him down as if judging him for begging. He shouts, screams for help, 

“ _ Don’t you feel anything?! Please just stop! _ ”

It’s mouth snaps…. over his head.

Shiro breathes heavily for a moment as they stare at each other. Its eyes- the ones on his face, looks at him searchingly, looks down at his feet, then to his face, darting quickly. Its mouth is pressed closed, lips pursed. It almost looks contrite.

One breath, then two. The creature lets him go and he lets out a pained cry when his head lands heavily on the hard ground. Shiro is left watching the night sky and the last thing he saw was huge wings covering the light of the moon.

-

The next morning, he wakes up in his bed.

He gasps, squinting at the rays of sunshine hitting him from outside, looks down at his clean but rumpled clothes.

‘ _ No, no, no.’ _

His brother cries out in surprise when he slams his door open, but he does not stop, he grabs his shoes and he runs outside like his life depended on it.

‘ _ A dream? It can’t be- _ ’

He pushes everyone out of the way and by the time he reaches the center he’s at the corner where he usually stands in quiet prayer before they leave for the hunt. He’s panting, cold sweat on his back and his eyes widen. He stares and stares and stares.

The statue has completely turned its head now, and its eyes are open, two gleaming sapphires looking. Right. At. Him. A chill ran through him, making him tremble. He stops breathing.

It is smiling.

-

Not one single person believes him when he tries to tell them what happened. His sisters scoff at him and tell him he needs more rest, his brother looks at him oddly and asks him if this was a new game he’d made up for them. His father snaps at him for talking about the Night Guardian like that, his mother though, she stills for a moment and tells him to sit down with her.

“Are you alright my son? Are you injured?”

And that’s just  _ it. _ Nothing from that night had stayed, not the bloodied, clawed ground, not his dirtied clothes, not even the  _ moon.  _ He remembers it being whole, but his people told him the full moon harvest was months away. They also told him that the statue had always been like that; eyes open, wings unfurled, staring at the ground with a wide smile. They do not feel doubt and now he does not know  _ what  _ to believe.

He shakes his head though, and squeezes his mother’s hands, “I am not injured. I just-” he closes his eyes. Confused? Lost? “It is nothing mother.”

She sighs, “I will not know if you do not tell me Takashi.”

He lets the silence envelop them. Bites his lip, and thinks about gleaming sapphires, “Mother, do you really think the Night Guardian is real?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because my mother did. And her mother before her.” Just that, no doubts at all.

“And did they believe about what happens at night too?”

His mother pauses, “It’s better to be safe Takashi. I only wanted you to be safe.” She sighs again, but this time she looks away, “There had always been a rumour you know? Among the other mothers. One child will be taken away when the Night Guardian is ready to leave us.” She shakes her head, “Superstitious, the lot of us. But I didn’t want it to be you. I never, ever want it to be you.”

He can’t make sense of anything right now, so he gathers, being honest might be the better choice. He looks outside and stares back at his mother, silver hair, grey in some parts, flowing down her back. The simple clothes she wears when she needs to take care of the animals, the wrinkles under her eyes, and the soft look that always seems to be there. He asks,

“What do you feel when you look at the Night Guardian?”

And she says, “Reverence, and peace perhaps. Also, fear, but who doesn’t?”

The sun turns, the clouds move. The room becomes dark.

“And what do you feel my son?”

He doesn’t know.

_ “Alive.” _

-

Snow has just begun to fall when Shiro first dreams of him.

He wakes up in his bed again, but he knows it is a dream when he looks outside his window and he sees the empty plains of grass stretching on for forever, moonlight shining on them, the sky dark without stars. He gets off the bed, pushes the window open so the warm breeze from outside could get in and push his hair back.

He marvels at how  _ real  _ everything feels when he hears a rustle from behind, quickly turning around to look in his room. What he sees makes him falter, makes him gape and try not to accidentally stumble outside. The Night Guardian smiles at him softly, and says,

“Shiro.” Then, “Why do they call you that?”

He is not the horrifying creature Shiro met, nor is he the revered statue standing at the centre of everything. He is clothed for one, a simple white shift spilling down his shoulders until his thighs. His voice is soft, amused, so unlike the shrieks, he heard before. His eyes are dark blue, and his skin is the colour of earth, covered with markings Shiro realizes were the eyes he had but shuttered closed. His wings are tucked behind, darker than the night sky, groomed well. His nails are black.

He’s sitting languidly in the middle of his room as if he belongs there, graceful and unassuming. It’s only when he tilts his head that the earring catches his eye, a blue diamond hanging at one of his ears. Perhaps the most jarring difference between them might be how large he was. If he’d stood up, his head would have easily reached the ceiling. He clicks his tongue, but his eyes look at him softly through his lashes.

Shiro lets out a long breath. He slowly sits down, back to the wall, knees up. Clears his throat,

“There was an accident, a few years ago. It was winter, and the ground was wet. I slipped and fell into a pond when I was releasing a bear cub from one of our traps. Nobody realized where I was. My head had knocked on something on the way down and I landed poorly on my arm. When I woke up, my right one had started turning black from the cold and the bone sticking out were too damaged for the healers to do anything about. They had to get rid of it.”

“Alright….” he’d placed his cheek on his hand, a look of genuine interest on his face.

“I do not know. Along the way, while I was staying in the healer’s house recovering from a high fever, and as I was resting in my room after, my hair had turned pale. Like ash.”

“A pond? But I thought they called you ‘The Man of the White Lake’,”

He laughs, “My father likes to exaggerate. My mother though,” he pauses, “She thought it was  _ your  _ doing.”

He hums, then he laces his hands together and smiles, 

“My name is Lance.”

-

He dreams of Lance again and again, as winter passes by. And then spring, and summer, autumn. As each dream goes by, he gets closer to Lance. For when once he wouldn’t dare be two feet near him, now he helps groom his feathers. They sit side by side like close companions now, his shoulder brushing Lances arm. And they will talk as if they had all the time in the world.

He’ll ask Shiro about his life, his family, what he loves and what he does not like. And he will never tell Shiro anything about him, however hard Shiro tries to ask him. Shiro finds that he craves these nights, something to look forward to every time he closes his eyes. Wishes he could tell someone about them, but he knows no one will ever believe him.

He loves them, a realization in the peak of summer where the nights were too short. He misses them, and he’s not sure if that was because of Lance. It's during that time too, that Lance finally tells him about where he was from.

Shiro has his head on Lance’s lap, laid out on the floor, and Lance is carding his long fingers through his hair as he sighs and says, “I was born with four wings, but the hunters tore off two of them.”

A pause, then he shrugs, “I can’t really fly properly without them now. I think I came somewhere from the mountains. I can’t remember, I’ve been running for so long Shiro.”

Shiro stays silent, closes his eyes and revels in the warmth of Lance’s hands on his forehead.

“Your ancestors gave me protection but by then I was not myself. How many years I wonder, was I under the hunter’s torture? It’s all so hazy to me. They turned me feral, the people of your town had to encase me in melted fire and cool me off for all to see in black stone. Perhaps…. it’s the moon. Or perhaps it’s just my own curse. Every night I break free and I hunt down everything I can.”

Shiro looks up at Lance, his face the same sorrowful look he’d seen before on the statue. He wonders if his arm is long enough to stroke his cheek. He clears his throat, “So that night, that was-”

Lance shrugs, “An unlucky goat.”

“I thought it was a nightmare.”

Lance looks offended now, “Hey, I clean up after myself you know,”

“Then what about that- that prophecy,”

“Prophecy?”

“You do not know?  _ ‘I will go once one is born with a heart of gold and mind of mercy. I will leave once one will have me for all I am _ .’”

“Oh. I said that?”

“Apparently.”

“Well now, that would be nice. I miss flying in the sun. The blue clouds, the heat on your back, that rush of air…. oh, the feeling is unparalleled Shiro.”

“Do you think you’ve found them?”

He looks down at Shiro now, and Shiro marvels at how the moonlight makes his eyes shine a brighter blue. Lance smiles that smile again, so wide it seems to reach the edges of his eyes, eerie and so beautiful at the same time.

“Perhaps.”

-

-

-

-

-

Shiro is in love. He does not dream of Lance only at night; he thinks about Lance when he wakes up in the morning when he’s running with his sisters in the forest, when he’s mending clothes with his mother, when he slips into sleep, waiting to see Lance again.

Everything seems to fade into grey, the only thing he remembers is the colour of the night sky and Lance’s blue eyes. Obsession? Not quite, infatuation maybe, a kind of longing he’d taste at the tip of his tongue all throughout the day that is only satisfied every night. He would not hesitate at all if he were to leave everything for Lance. He feels as if he’s been bewitched.

It’s summer again and he hates it so, because of how short it was.

Lance has sprawled on the wooden floorboards again, squinting at his hunting dagger like it was an interesting toy. Shiro’s lying down beside him, laughing quietly now and again as Lance tells him about the people in his town, the antics he’d seen them do, what he’d thought of them. And it’s between this peaceful moment that Shiro speaks up, heart thudding loudly in his chest, feeling his face heat up from it.

“I want you.”

Lance doesn’t even pause, “Why?”

“Because I lo-”

“No.” His eyes are narrowed. It’s not really a glare but Shiro is suddenly reminded of that creature he met after midnight. Lance closes on him until their nose touch, staring at him with intensity.

“ _ Why? _ ”

“Because you’re Lance.”

It feels like years passed before Lance finally withdraws. He laughs, and he looks back at Shiro with such tenderness that he feels hope build in him. Lance shakes his head, and he smiles, and he says,

“Take off your clothes for me?”

It does not sound like a question, but he does it all the same. The room is warm, the window is open. He shivers when he’s finally fully bare and a stray wind hits them. Lance looks pleased, leaning over him, humming as he places a hand on his chest, “Lay back now Shiro, it’s alright.”

Shiro can’t help the heated flush crawling down his neck, nor can he bite down the sharp gasp when Lance kisses the spot under his belly, licks a long, wet line to his collarbone. All his senses feel heightened, his skin buzzing with every featherlight touch from Lance’s fingers, a kiss creeping up to his jaw, a nip at the tender skin of his throat, a firm bite at his ear.

He hears a rustle and he gasps again when Lance’s lays on him, chest to chest and skin on skin, and he kisses Shiro’s forehead, his nose, his eyes and finally,  _ finally,  _ he kisses Shiro and Shiro moans at the heated warmth pressing on his lips.

When he opens his mouth, Lance plunges his tongue in and it’s in that moment that Shiro realizes how  _ long _ it was. Stroking at the roof of his mouth, licking his teeth, dancing with his. It’s messy and wet and everything he could ask for, spit dribbling down his lip, also connecting their mouths as it hangs between them. Panting, breath hitching, long moans and wet sounds; Shiro feels  _ wrecked  _ and he barely registers how Lance had directed his arm over his head.

But then he feels Lance pressing down on his wrist, tight and firm, and Lance is looking at him heatedly, lips in a crooked smile,

“Is this alright?”

Shiro nods.

A soft sigh, and another softer kiss.

“I need you to  _ tell me _ , Shiro.”

“Y-yes. Yes. It’s fine. I want this.”

Lance kisses him again and whispers, “Good,” hums, “So perfect,” his tongue laps up the sweat pooling under his neck, “Made  _ just _ for me.” He sounds hungry. His head moves lower, hand still tight on Shiro’s wrist and he swallows thickly when Lance licks a long stripe on his erect cock, flushed red and leaking. Lance ignores it after that though, he goes lower.

“Raise your legs,” Shiro does, Lance kisses the skin under his thighs, bites and laves at it. He breathes hotly over Shiro’s tight hole and Shiro gasps, as he feels the wetness at his taint. Moans as Lance plunges his tongue in his hole, curling it inside, licking around the rim, plunging it in again and again until Shiro is crying from the shots of pleasure striking up his body.

Lance fucks him with his tongue and every time he hits the spot that makes Shiro cry sharply, he gets in deeper and deeper and not for the first time Shiro wonders how long his tongue will go. Until he could feel his heart hammering in his throat until he’s red and flushed, panting, his cock  _ so close  _ to climax, dribbling come on his stomach.

He’s slurring now, begging Lance, “ _ Please please, _ ” And Lance comes out with a wet sound, licks his lips and shushes him softly, kisses Shiro’s wrist. “Shiro?”

“I, _ I- _ ”

“Shhh, I’m here. Shiro, look up.”

He does, staring up at how content Lance looks, and he realizes his eyes are glowing now, like sapphires. Shiro looks down, and he gulps. Lance’s cock is huge, he does not know if he can take it. Lance chuckles suddenly, making Shiro’s face flush as he snaps up to Lance again.

“It’s alright Shiro. You needn’t worry, I will take care of you, I promise.”

Lance crawls over him, in imitation of a straddle, he’d surely crush Shiro if he really did. Lance lets go of his wrist, but he leans down to lick into his mouth, bite the edge of his ear to whisper, “Don’t move your arm?” Shiro nods quickly and Lance hums, pleased.

He straightens up again, and Shiro sees him reaching his hands under, fingers dipping in the crack of his ass. Lance sighs, pumping in with two fingers, then three, four. Shiro is panting hotly, and his breath hitches when something wet lands on his cock, making it twitch, already over-sensitive from Lance’s ministration.

Lance’s hole is  _ wet _ , squelching as he pumps his fingers in and out, throwing his head back and moaning at the ceiling, making his earring shine in the night. Lance stares at Shiro, and he feels as if he’s looking straight into his very core, stripping everything he ever was.

“I love you.”

The truth and Shiro feel utter happiness hearing it from Lance’s soft lips.

Lance’s fingers are still inside him when he drops onto Shiro’s cock. They both moan; loud and reverberating through the dark room. Lance has his hand splayed out on Shiro’s chest as he struggles not to thrust up into the wet heat.

“Lance I- I have to- please,  _ please, _ ” Shiro begs, and Lance promptly gives him what he wants. Moving slowly at first, gaining in momentum and speeding up as Shiro begs and begs for  _ more.  _ Lance fucks himself with his fingers, makes Shiro fuck him with his cock too, and all of it makes him pant and moan, makes his knees shake as the floorboards underneath them quake.

Shiro feels strung tight, craving more of Lance’s heat, wanting it to swallow him whole. When he finally screams out his pleasure and releases inside Lance, he whimpers when Lance keeps on moving, the tight walls and Lance’s finger brushing on his sensitive and spent cock, making him gasp softly with the stimulation.

Lance comes with a soft, drawn-out moan, a shudder, and a contented sigh. He spills on Shiro’s stomach, up to his chin. Shiro licks his lips greedily when some of it lands on his face. He pulls out from Shiro, leans down to suck and lick the come off Shiro’s chest.

He lays down beside Shiro after that, lets Shiro nuzzle under his chin, kisses Shiro roughly, hand stroking half of his face, tongue exploring his mouth again. Lance tucks Shiro under his huge wings, humming contently when Shiro runs his hands through the feathers. His  _ wings,  _ Shiro realizes. No wonder the room had seem so dark.

Lance has his eyes closed now, his body is like a furnace, a contrast to Shiro’s cooling sweat. He does not want to go to sleep.

“I wish….” Shiro murmurs.

Lance stays silent.

“I wish this wasn’t a dream.”

There was the sound of them breathing for a while, the soft sound of wind coming in from the open window. Shiro was just about to close his eyes when Lance snaps his open, looking at him seriously,

“Who said it was?”

“Wha-”

Lance looks to the side abruptly, snaps his wings closed and Shiro is suddenly staring at the window outside. At the street and the rows of houses that were always there when he wakes up. He stares at it in shock and Lance smiles,

“Meet me outside, tomorrow night.”

And he does not know what happens next, but he feels a firm pressure on his lips and suddenly he’s falling asleep.

-

The next night, midnight comes with the full moon shining down on the empty altar. Shiro hears the creature before he sees it. He does not do anything but look steadily on at the eyes around its body, glowing blue. Its rows of sharp teeth, as it extends over his head, wider and wider, pulling him in.

Shiro closes his eyes and he lets it eat him whole, feeling nothing but the overwhelming darkness of the night sky.

-

They say, once upon a time, the Night Guardian had stayed in the city for years, protecting them every night from any danger. They say before there were cars and telephones, and lamp posts, the people in the city would go out and hunt and pray to the Night Guardian and his lover, the Man of the White Lake.

They say, every summer you’d see shadows of two huge birds flying out at twilight, one as dark as the night sky and the other, grey as smoke.

They  _ know, _ the empty altar is not empty every winter and summer solstice. There are two statues frozen in mid-dance, bodies intertwined, faces looking at each other with unending love, protecting the city once again.

There are statues standing tall at the centre of the city, and when midnight hits and the moonlight shines as bright as the sun, they swear they could see their eyes glow brightly in the dark.

_ -fin- _

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this was made with my urge to write a dom lance that was big and had a really long tongue hsghsgs, the title for this was taken from the lyrics of the cover of [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_lap6dzSUc), the cover by [jubyphonic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVV73Sv0nBw)
> 
> Thnks for reading!
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


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